


Fire and the Flood

by captain_kriegy



Category: Women's Soccer RPF
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-14
Updated: 2016-03-14
Packaged: 2018-05-26 14:10:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6242470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captain_kriegy/pseuds/captain_kriegy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ali is in D.C, and Ash is in Orlando.</p>
<p>Ash is everywhere Ali looks in her daily routine, but she's nowhere to be found.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fire and the Flood

**Author's Note:**

> Hey friends!!! 
> 
> Happy NWSL preseason!! Enjoy this oneshot (I promise it has a happy ending, okay?) 
> 
> If you've read my stuff before, you're probably saying, "oh my gosh, she wrote a oneshot that isn't explicit?" and yes, I did. I'm very proud of myself :P. I actually wrote this a bit more than a month ago, but just decided to edit and post it in honor of preseason and because I'm behind on a bit of my other writing.... whoops. 
> 
> This is titled after the song Fire and the Flood by Vance Joy, which was featured on one of Ali's playlists. It's a really beautiful song, and I recommend listening to it either while you read this or at some other point in time if you haven't already!
> 
> I hope you like it!

            Ash had been traded, but she was still everywhere. She was in their bed, wrapping her arms around Ali from behind every morning, pushing her hair aside and kissing the base of her neck. She was in the bathroom, tickling Ali while she tried to brush her teeth. She was in the closet, deciding between bowties and gasping at Ali’s outfits. She was in their kitchen, lazily slumping around in boxers and Ali’s tee shirt while Ali handed her a mug of coffee and she was doing all the cooking required to make dinner while Ali was on chopping duty. She was in the shower, pressing Ali against the wall and fucking her senseless before gently running the loofa across her body. She was on the couch, cuddling her, kissing her, making out with her while they watched Bundesliga soccer. She was in the dining room, setting out the table for a team dinner party. She was on the balcony, watching the stars, commenting on how they reminded her of Ali.

            Ashlyn had been traded, but she was still everywhere. She was in their car, playing with the radio, turning up the music more and more every time a new song came on. She was in the locker room, taping her wrists and winking at Ali “for good luck”. She was on the field, yelling commands from behind her, giving her grateful high five’s when she made a good defensive play. She was in the ice baths, cringing and singing silly songs to distract everyone from the cold. She was at the gym, doing pull ups next to her, bragging about how much stronger her arms were in the most playful way possible. She was on the airplane, holding hands with Ali under the blanket and staring at her lovingly. She was at their games, standing next to her in the player introductions, wrapping her in her arms at the end of a hard fought match, no matter the outcome. She was in the hotel room down the hall, texting her updates on her teammates’ antics and she was in the stairwell, rewarding her for a good game with her fingers pushing against all the right places.

            She considered trying to move out of the apartment, but it felt silly. It was the first place they ever lived together, in 2013, when the NWSL began. Plus, she might have been haunted by the way Ashlyn was everywhere, but more than that, she was comforted. Ash might not have really been there in person, but it felt like she was. She found herself turning around in the middle of the night to snuggle closer to someone who wasn’t there. Nobody made her almost fall over laughing while she was trying to brush her teeth. Nobody gasped at her outfits or asked for help picking a bowtie. She found herself making two cups of coffee in the morning only to have to throw the other one out when Ash never came out of the room. She found herself burning dinner because she would forget she needed to do things other than chop the veggies. She had to finger herself in the shower, and clean herself off with the loofa. She turned her head to laugh about a bad play on the television only to realize there was nobody next to her. Nobody to cuddle her, kiss her, make out with her. She had someone else host the team dinner party. Too much for one person. Plus, she knew she would start crying when she had to set the table. She sat on the balcony alone, staring at the stars, thinking about how much they reminded her of Ash.

            Nothing felt right about being the “hometown girl” anymore. It didn’t feel like home. She turned the radio up every time a new song came on because it made her feel like Ashlyn was there, she just couldn’t see her because she was focusing on the road. Nobody winked at her in the locker “for good luck,” and the goalkeepers taping their hands didn’t seem to even notice the way she would stare. The voice commanding from behind her and congratulating her on good defensive plays was too quiet and too deep. She sat in ice baths with Crystal and Megan and Christine, and sometimes when Crystal would start singing, she would have to bite back tears. Her trainer pat her on the back when she broke her personal record doing pull ups, but nobody was there to tease or to tell her how much higher their record is. She sat next to Diana on the plane, and they smiled at each other before putting headphones in. Ali stared out the window, seeing Ashlyn’s eyes in the shapes of lush green trees thousands of miles below them. Someone else stood next to her during player introductions, Crystal tried to hug her extra tight when they would win a game, but when they lost, Ali slumped to the ground to stretch after handshakes. The team group text was her only notification from hotel rooms down the hall, and nobody fucked her in the staircase.

            But she got used to a new normal. Ash would text her “good morning,” every morning. She would send her a joke or a cute penguin picture to make her laugh when she brushed her teeth. She would send her pictures of three bowties and ask Ali which was her favorite. She sent Ali recipes for dinners she could make with very specific instructions, like “don’t look away from this, the veggies can wait.” She would text her dirty words about what she would do if she were there, and Ali thought of them when she fingered herself in the shower. They would watch Bundesliga at the same time, texting each other their reactions. Ali watched the team interact at the dinner party while she texted Ash about how much she missed her. Ash sent her pictures of the stars, telling her how much better the view was in Florida, away from the city, and how much they shined. She told her they reminded her of Ali.

            She texted her about the songs that came on the radio in the car. Sometimes they were the same songs Ali had heard that day. She sent her good luck texts before her games with the winky face. Sometimes Ali would watch the old video from Tyreso of Ash taping her wrists before games, and try to picture her in the locker room. If Ash was around, she texted Ali while she watched streams of her games, congratulating her on every solid defensive play. She sent her videos of her teammates and her singing in ice baths, and Ali chastised her and told her to make sure she doesn’t drop her phone in the water. Ash would text Ali with how many pull ups she did that day, just to rub it in her face. She would laugh, text back a playful, “beat me on the beep test and then we’ll talk,” even though she was fighting back tears. She mailed her one of those neck pillows when Ali lost hers at a game, so Ali cuddled her head into something that reminded her of Ash while she stared out the window and made small talk with Diana. She called her, and told her how well she played and how proud she was of her after every single one of her games, no matter the outcome, and texted Crystal to give her crap for not hugging Ali if they lost. She would stand in the hotel bathroom and finger herself while on the phone with Ash while her roommate was out.

            Ali always knew she wanted to play at home. What she didn’t realize was that her home wasn’t a place, it was a person. The moment Ali had boarded the plane to D.C for preseason, she realized she wasn’t going home. She was leaving it.

            Ashlyn seems happy, and it breaks Ali’s heart. Sure, she knows Ashlyn misses her. But Ashlyn doesn’t seem to have the whole “you are my home, not Florida,” thing that Ali does. Ali cries for twenty minutes on the phone one day while Ash just listens to her sob.

“What’s going on, baby?” Ash asks, confused and sad. She knew it was hard, the distance, but they had done it before. She knew Ali was taking it harder than anticipated, but she didn’t realize she was taking it this hard. “Do you want me to come to visit? Are you okay? Did something happen?”

“You’re my home,” Ali admits when she gets her sobbing under control. “You are my home but your home is Florida.”

“Alex, baby, you know that’s not true.”

“If I was your home you would still be here. Or you would’ve wanted me to be there.”  
  
“Of course I wish you were here, Alex.”

“Okay, but do you sit up at night thinking, ‘I would go back to D.C. in a heartbeat if it meant being with Ali again’?”

“This is exciting for me. I thought you understood that. I thought we could handle the long distance thing. You knew what we were getting ourselves into when you encouraged me to do this.”  
  
“I mean, clearly we are handling it, but it’s not easy, okay? This isn’t three years ago. We’ve lived together for years. We won a World Cup together. We’re planning on having a family together. I know I encouraged you, I don’t regret it, clearly you’re happy, but, I just, want you to be sad with me.”

“I don’t know if we’re handling it," Ash admits. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re clearly not handling it.”

“I’m handling it, I just. It’s hard. And I miss you. And I don’t feel like you miss me as much as I miss you, and that’s really fucking hard," Ali says, her voice crackling slightly as her lip quivers. 

“What do you think I felt like when you were in Germany all those years? Telling everyone it was the happiest you’ve ever been, how much you loved it, how much you loved the team?”

“Ash, that’s different,” Ali insists. “That’s not a fair comparison. We were just starting a relationship. Long distance was all we had ever known.”

“That doesn’t mean it wasn’t hard.” There’s an uncomfortable moment of silence. They haven’t really fought since the long distance thing started. They didn’t exactly have a good track record with long distance fights.

“I love you, Ali. You’re everything to me. You’re forever. This situation is temporary.”

“I know it’s temporary. But I just, it makes feel me bad.”

“What, that I’m having more fun than you? You think that since you’re miserable, I should be miserable too? That’s not fair,” Ash explains. Ali bites down hard on her lip, more tears threatening to spill.

“Why are you being so mean? I just miss you.”

“I’m trying to be understanding, but you’re trying to make me feel bad for enjoying myself. For not regretting taking this opportunity.”

“I love you,” Ali says quietly. “And you’re everywhere here. Everywhere I turn, I see you. You’re in the bed, by the sink, in the kitchen, in the shower, on the couch, in the dining room, on the balcony. You’re in the car and in the locker room and on the field and in the ice bath and in the gym and you’re on the airplane and you’re at the games and you’re in the hotel. You’re everywhere and I love you so much and sometimes I swear you’re here.”

            Ali is in Orlando, but not like Ashlyn is in D.C. Ali is in Orlando, setting up furniture perfectly, helping break in the bed, kissing her against the door, but Ali in Orlando had days of memories where as Ashlyn in D.C. had years.

“I love you too,” Ash replies. “I’m sorry this is so hard. I didn’t want this for us. I’m sorry that I’m acting like your sadness is an inconvenience.”

“I’m sorry I’m not as happy for you as I should be.”

“You’re everything to me,” Ash reminds her. “We’re going to be okay. I can come see you Monday, maybe? Your Sunday game is at home, right? We’re going to be in Portland. But I can fly to D.C. instead of here and then we can be together for recovery day, and I can go back Monday night. Like, a stop along the way to see you.”

“That’s a lot of flying,” Ali reasons. “Not good for your legs to fly on recovery day. Tom wouldn’t be happy.”

“The flight from D.C. to Orlando is an hour and a half. It’ll be fine, baby. I’ll double check with Tom tomorrow, but I want to see you.”

“I feel bad, making you come visit me.”

“You aren’t making me. I want to see you. I want to kiss you and hold you in my arms and tell you that we’re going to be okay. And that it’s ripping me apart not being near you.”

“I love you so much.”

“I love you too, beautiful,” Ash reminds her.  
  
“We’re going to be okay.”

“We’re going to be great.”

            Ash comes to visit, and is in DC for less than twenty four hours. She arrives at 10pm on Sunday, and Ali picks her up at the airport. They spend the whole night just lying next to each other, cuddling and making love to each other. They barely sleep, too afraid of the time passing, too caught up in each other.

            They only get out of bed the next day so that their fitness coaches don’t kick their asses for not doing recovery. They go to the pool and to yoga, before settling back into bed. They fuck hungrily and desperately until it fades into gentle lovemaking, and then they snuggle up together, too exhausted to move.

“Everything is okay, you know? Everything is fine, with us like this, your head next to mine,” Ali remarks. Ash agrees, and they’re silent for a while longer, just enjoying each other’s company.

“I think this might be the least we’ve ever talked while together,” Ash admits, holding Ali’s head to her chest. They were both typically the chatty type, always talking about something silly or asking the other’s opinion on things. They found the past day to be awfully quiet.

“I don’t need words, I just need your presence. Words can’t express what you being here today means to me,” Ali replies. Ash kisses the top of her head tenderly.

            Ali drives Ash back to the airport that night, and they both cry in the car.

“I’ll see you in two weeks, for National Team duties,” Ali reminds Ash. Ash is full out sobbing, and, for once, Ali isn’t the one who can’t hold it together.

“It kills me, Ali, being back here. You’re right… it’s… this place is all us. It hurts my heart to know you’re here alone,” Ash cries. Ali reaches across the car and holds her close, kissing her head.

“I’m okay, Ash. We’re going to be okay. You told me so yourself.”

            They stop crying and share one last, deep kiss before Ash has to leave. They both try to stay strong for each other, knowing that with every time they get to reunite, comes another goodbye. Ali brings her hand to her mouth, where she wears her matching ring with Ashlyn. She kisses her ring as she gets back into her car.

“I love you, baby," she whispers to her ring. 

            They see each other for National Team friendlies. They see each other when Orlando play Washington. They see each other for the entirety of the Olympics. They cry every time they part, and they hold each other closer than they ever have each time they reunite.

            Finally, the Spirit settle with the Pride on a trade sending a top notch international defender and a few pricy draft picks to Washington for Ali. And she finally leaves that DC apartment, and moves in to her home with Ashlyn. They finally buy their dog, which, no, Ali does not let Ashlyn name “Waffles,” and then they argue over whether they should go to England or Germany over the offseason. They finally get engaged, and Ali starts to take over planning the wedding of her dreams, more than a few “make sure your girl doesn’t turn into Bridezilla,” comments thrown Ashlyn’s way, sometimes by near strangers.

            And, when the Pride edge out the Thorns in the 2017 NWSL Championship match, Ali jumps onto Ashlyn and kisses her, hard, slow, and deep, not caring about the crowd in BBVA Compass Stadium watching them or the hundreds of pictures that are sure to surface the next day. 

            Everything is fine, Ashlyn’s head resting next to Ali’s as they fall asleep, 2015 World Champions, 2016 Olympic Champions, and 2017 NWSL Champions. Oh, and of course, Ali will never let Ash forget her 2008 UEFA Champions League Championship, and Ash will retort with her incredible PK save that won her the 2011 WPS Championship.

            Somehow, after all of this, their lives are still just beginning.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!!!! 
> 
> Please leave me your thoughts and feelings! 
> 
>  
> 
> If you want to come talk to me on tumblr, I'm captain-kriegy.tumblr.com! 
> 
> You guys are the best :D.


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